Murky Waters
by AliKat1976
Summary: A strange pair of cases send Grissom, Sara, and the team to investigate the most base of human interactions, but will our geeks be able to save each other as they swim in the murky waters of death, deception, and despair? (GSR)


**Murky Waters**

**Chapter 1 - In the beginning, there was darkness**

December 29 - 23:28

The lights flickered once, then twice before finally giving out and leaving Criminalist Gil Grissom alone in the dark in his crowded office within the belly of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He heard a collective gasp, followed by groans from his staff throughout the building. The late December storm had been toying with power lines all day, but had eluded the police department's power hub until now. After waiting half a minute to see if the generators would kick on and restore power to the building, Grissom reached into his desk drawer and removed a tiny penlight so he could make his way into the hallway to evaluate the situation.

"Oops! Oh, god, I'm sorry," gasped a female voice as she collided with him just outside the Trace Lab. "Didn't see ya there, obviously."

He recognized that voice, her voice, immediately. Sara Sidle had a low, sultry voice that haunted his dreams, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Pardon me, Sara." He swung the light back around, pointed at the floor so he wouldn't blind her. She was wearing tan suede boots under her usual black jeans. In her hand was her own penlight.

"Griss," she said, marginally surprised. "Should've known you wouldn't be one to sit and curse the darkness."

"I was just on my way to the maintenance office to find out how long they expect us work in the dark," he replied.

She was standing close to him, too close for his comfort. He caught a whiff of her shampoo, an herbal botanical if he wasn't mistaken, and the fragrance warmed him despite the chill of the lab air. She must have sensed the proximity barrier breach too, because simultaneously, they each took an instinctive step back to create more personal space between them.

"Oh, great, well, let me join you. I gotta take this report down to Catherine in the break room. I found a match for our DB in the canal," she said.

He could hear the satisfied smirk in her voice and knew it was because no one expected a match for another day, at least. The portly man's naked body had been found floating atop the Venetian hotel's casino, in one of the many crisscrossing canals built in replica of the European city's vast network of channels. AFIS was giving back inconclusive results because the prints were so altered from waterlogged shriveling, CODIS had found no matches, and they didn't have much else to go on.

_'Of course,' _he thought to himself, _'she's one of the best.'_

She couldn't see his barely-suppressed grin of pride at her accomplishment, which was the only reason he didn't bother concealing it completely. He began walking down the hall again, heard her footsteps behind him.

"You should be bringing those to me first, you know," he chided her, but hoped she could hear the teasing lilt of his voice.

Catherine had sent her on the fact-finding mission, and he knew that he would've been kept current on the information soon.

"What've we got, then?" he asked.

"43 year-old banker from Dallas, Norman Hadler. His wife filed an MP on him three hours ago when he didn't arrive on his flight home. She says he told her he'd be in Mexico City on business all week. I ran his financial records. He used his Visa to check into the Mirage on Monday night, never checked out."

They stopped outside the door to the break room. Grissom turned to her. "Good work. Now, go find Nick and the two of you get your kits ready. I'll brief Catherine. We're gonna go check out the hotel room. If we can't blame it on Mexico, we still need a reason."

Sara cocked her head to one side and gave a slight pause. Had he really just quoted a country song? She filed the information away for future reference.

"Hey Griss?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Yes?"

She felt her stomach flip. It hadn't escaped her attention that he was assigning himself onto a case that the rest of the team had already been working without him. Neither had she overlooked how quickly he'd chosen to assign himself with her on the same scene. Without being able to see his face, though, she lost her nerve.

"Actually, never mind. I think I just answered my own question." She turned in her own confusion and started back to the locker room.

"Oh, and Sara," he called after her. "Don't forget your jacket. It's cold." He paused and looked down at her report, effectively dismissing her. "Don't wanna catch a chill. You know."

If she hadn't known better, she almost would have thought he sounded nervous. And again, if she hadn't known better, she would have been tempted to read more into his innocuous statement, but then she realized that he probably just didn't want her to have to take any time off for a bout of flu. Typical. "O-okay."

Grissom walked a few more steps to the maintenance office and raised a hand to knock, but stopped as the fluttering of the hall lights showed the power was back.

"Your prompt service is always appreciated, guys," he mumbled and headed back to his office to collect his gear.

December 30 - 00:33

"So he wasn't clubbed, beaten, broken, or drowned, and we have no other apparent cause of death?" Catherine was highly un-amused with Dr. Al Robbins, the county medical examiner.

The body they'd found earlier that evening was becoming a mystery that she wondered if even science could explain. No evidence in the canal, nothing to determine if this was a homicide or suicide. Although Sara had managed to determine the man's identity, no clues about his death had been forthcoming.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, necessarily. Look here," Robbins said as he opened the thumb and forefinger of Hadler's left hand apart. "There's an injection site here that looks fresh."

Catherine leaned in to inspect the wound. "I'll have Greg run a tox report on him. Okay, what else?"

"That's all I got so far. I'm scheduled to start the autopsy at 3:30, but if I finish up early with the stab vic over there, I'll page you," Robbins said.

He extruded a large injection needle filled with dark red liquid and squirted it back into a glass vial, capping it before handing her the specimen. As she watched, her mind processed the new information. The appearance of an injection site didn't provide any substantial clues yet. She still couldn't determine one way or the other, whether Hadler had been murdered by injection, or was just happily self-drugged and wandering naked around the top of a casino for his own pleasure. Vegas was full of freaks, either way you looked at it.

"Thanks Doc," she said.

Catherine labeled the vial before turning on her heel and heading back up to the lab with the blood sample. Greg was going to kill her for throwing another task on him, but it had to be done. She only hoped there wouldn't be any more huge cases coming in the next couple of nights.

December 30 - 23:48

The drive to the hotel had been done in silence as Grissom steered the vehicle through the fog as it rolled in after the storm passed. The three CSIs unloaded their field kits from the back of Grissom's black Denali at the Mirage Hotel. A few minutes later, Detective Jim Brass pulled in beside them and the stocky detective came over to discuss the newest events.

"Gil, Sara, Nick," Brass said, nodding to each of them. "I called the front desk on the way over. They're expecting us. Uniforms are already upstairs, securing the room."

Together the foursome walked into the hotel and stopped in the lobby in front of the check-in desk.

The front desk clerk watched them come in, nodding at them as she picked up the phone. A few moments later, the hotel manager joined them. Introductions were made, and the manager began speaking as though giving a well-rehearsed report.

"He was checked into room 1404, was supposed to check out this evening but he didn't show. I haven't sent the cleaning crew up yet. I usually give it a day if they miss checkout. Ya know, Vegas fever. Some people decide to stick around an extra day or two."

"Well, he may have checked in here, but he checked out ahead of schedule at the Venetian."

Sara flinched. _'Griss and his puns,' _she thought.

"We're gonna want to talk to anyone who saw Hadler while he was here, figure out who saw him last. And we'll need the security tapes." Grissom looked at Nick Stokes, who nodded and followed the manager to his office. Brass took out his notebook and headed back to talk to the concierge.

Grissom turned to look at Sara. "You ready?"

She sighed. "As I can be."

They turned and walked to the elevators together. Tension filled the air between them. Both knew, but neither could acknowledge that this was the first scene they'd worked together in at least a couple of months. As the elevator doors opened, Sara suddenly stopped. She couldn't confine herself in there with him. Her eyes met his.

"Ya know, maybe I should take the stairs. Might accidentally spot something we can use."

He peered at her with what she'd come to call his "under the microscope" look, as though he were processing her like evidence, his head slightly cocked to one side, eyes slightly squinted. He held the door back with one hand, looking as though he were about to demand that she ride in the close quarters of the elevator with him. It was too much. In the recesses of her mind, she heard song lyrics flit by. Cheap Trick. _'I want you to want me... I need you to need me...'_

_'Oh for God's sake, Sara,' _she chided herself. _'Get over it, already!'_

"That's not a bad idea. See you upstairs," he said before he stepped into the elevator, letting the doors close and leaving her staring at him with her heart beating a little heavier than usual.

_'Well, at least that wasn't awkward or anything,'_ she thought to herself sarcastically, speculating and worrying about how she would ever manage to finish working this case, or any case for that matter, if she wasn't comfortable enough to spend time with the man. Calculating the odds that she'd be able to finish the next year without working on a case with him, and deciding they were bad, she headed up the stairs, shaking her head.

**Chapter 2 - From the darkness, there came light**

December 30 - 01:02

When the doors closed, Grissom exhaled in a low, heavy sigh. They were having a miserable time at trying to pretend nothing was going on. She couldn't even stand to be in the elevator alone with him. He knew when he decided to assign himself onto this case that she might show some hesitation about it, but he hadn't expected her to withdraw completely from him. He had respect for all of his team members, but she had always been his personal favorite. His decision not to work cases with her came from his own worries that someone might see, that someone might look through his carefully erected facade and discover his true feelings.

As the bell sounded to announce his arrival at the 14th floor, he quickly shuffled and reorganized the thoughts in his mind, focusing on the case before him.

_'Science, Gil, focus on the science. Emotions are faulty. Science is factual.'_

Two uniformed officers spotted him coming off the elevator and waved him over to the room. He mentally prepared himself to look for the invisible, listen for the silent, and find the clues they needed to find to solve this case.

"All clear, sir." Officer Braxton announced. He was a tall, broadly muscled young cop, fresh out of the academy. Grissom couldn't dismiss the stray thought that this was the kind of guy Sara should be with, that he had no right to even think about being with her himself. He wanted it though, despite all evidence that it should never happen. He muttered his thanks as he stepped into the doorway of what appeared to be a normal luxury room.

_'But,' _he thought, _'normal rooms don't have dead renters.' _He snapped on his latex gloves and went to work, taking careful photographs of the entire scene before disturbing anything. He wondered how long it would take her to finish climbing the stairs, but realized that she would get there when she got there, and not a moment before.

December 30 - 01:27

She was crouched on all fours, on the stair landing between the 8th and 9th floors, inspecting dried droplets of an unidentified substance near the wall. She gasped slightly when the door behind her swung open and she realized someone was going to get a good view of her rear end. It was too late, though, and she figured she might as well just swallow her embarrassment and try to keep her dignity.

"Whoa baby! I love a girl that knows how to present herself," she heard a man exclaim behind her.

_'So much for dignity,'_ her head chimed in. She'd been warned before about keeping her temper in line, and reminded herself that she could handle the situation without pummeling the man, like she really wanted to. Immediately she pushed herself up onto her knees, and heard the man begin to stammer.

"Oh shit, I mean, shit I'm sorry, I thought you were... I mean, someone else. I was supposed to meet someone here and I thought you were... I got confused, I'm really sorry, Miss."

A satisfied smirk passed over her face as she remembered that written in giant white letters on the back of her jacket was the word "FORENSICS" - and that the man had probably come very close to emptying his bladder upon reading it. She stood and turned to look at him then, to see what kind of man made comments like that to a stranger in a stairwell. He looked to be in his early 50's, fairly well built for his age, slightly graying hair, and judging by his suit and shoes he was probably doing pretty well financially.

"It's okay, I get it all the time," she said facetiously and gave him a bright 'cat that caught the canary' smirk. "I take it you and your friend are pretty close?"

The man paused for a moment, and Sara watched the wheels turn in his mind. Watching him, she noticed he was wearing both a wedding ring and a Catholic cross on a gold chain around his neck. She already suspected something illicit was supposed to be taking place in the stairwell. His reluctance to answer only confirmed that for her.

"My name is Sara Sidle," she said to him, trying to draw him out. "I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab. It would really help us both out if you could just tell me the truth now. If you won't cooperate with me, I'm sure I could call one of the officers up to encourage you."

"Oh no, no! No need for that. I'm sorry Miss Sidle; I'm just a little embarrassed about this is all. I was... well, I was supposed to meet a girl here. You know, one of _those_ women?" he stammered.

"A prostitute, you mean?"

"Yeah," he sighed, and put his face in his hands for a moment. "Am I going to get arrested for this?"

She pushed aside her moral indignation at the married man's actions long enough to decide how to deal with the situation. "Well, you haven't done anything wrong yet, so no. I just have a few questions for you, and if you cooperate with me, I think we can avoid any legal problems. Do you normally meet this woman here, Mister...?"

"Uhm, sorry, it's Jenkins. Brad Jenkins. And no, I mean, I don't know. This was my first time to meet a girl like that, ya know," he sighed again. "I got this number from a buddy of mine who comes to Vegas a lot. Said they'd send over a nice girl, cash deal, no questions asked. I wasn't even gonna use it, but I got a little drunk in the casino, figured what the hell, ya know? Anyway, she picked the place when I told her where I was staying."

"Can you give me the name of the service, and the phone number?"

He reached behind him to pull out his wallet. After shuffling through it for a moment, he pulled out a worn yellow sticky note with a phone number penned in scratchy handwriting.

"This is the number he gave me, I think she said Moonbeam Escorts when she answered. Maybe Moonlight or Moonshine, or something. Moon-something, I'm almost sure of it."

"Alright, Mr. Jenkins. You've been really helpful. Before you go, though, I was wondering if you could give me a little DNA sample, just to be able to rule you out if I find anything here on the wall or anything?" She smiled brightly at him, but he hesitated.

"I mean, I don't have to do that, do I? I told you, I hadn't done anything yet. You said just answer some questions," he said, looking panicked.

"No, you don't have to give it to me, of course, but I could always get a warrant for it. If you didn't do anything wrong, then there's nothing to worry about... right?"

He thought about it for a moment, and Sara almost thought he was about to duck out from her, but slowly he nodded his consent.

"Ok, fine. What do you need, like a blood sample?"

Sara shook her head as she pulled a cotton swab from her kit.

"Nope, just open your mouth and say 'Ahh' for me." She swabbed Mr. Jenkins' cheek, closed the swab in a bindle, and then labeled the outside. "I really appreciate your help, Mr. Jenkins. In the future though, it would probably be best if you avoided calling any numbers that your buddies give you. Safer for your health, too."

She smiled at him, and he nodded, still looking petrified. He turned and left back out the 8th floor door.

Sara turned back to finish photographing and collecting the substance on the wall and floor, which was almost certainly ejaculate, she was now sure. After carefully labeling all her evidence and packing back up, she mentally prepared and steeled herself before going to meet up with Grissom in room 1404.

December 30 - 01:59

"God. We're gonna be here all night, man," Warrick predicted unhappily as he leaned back in his chair, pushing himself away from the monitor in front of him. "I gotta get some coffee, wanna come with?"

"Nah, thanks dude, I'm gonna stick here," Nick replied. "We're missing something. According to the gondola schedule, we should see him come through here between 8 pm and 8:30, which is when the gondolier says he found him. So how did he get there?"

Warrick stopped for a moment. "Maybe not. I mean, maybe he was put in the water between those times, but what if he walked up there long beforehand?"

"Whoa, hang on. Look at this." Nick rewound one of the two tapes he was scanning and focused in on the lower left-hand corner of the screen, where a whitish... something... appeared in the view. "What is that?"

Warrick nudged Nick's shoulder to move so he could sit down, his coffee lust now forgotten. "Let me see if I can't shed some light on the matter." He ran a series of commands through the terminal. Immediately the portion of the screen in question began expanding and clarifying for their view.

"Looks like we have splashdown," Nick said, smiling brightly. As they continued watching, they could just make out the very top of a large floating object in the water. Then, for just a split second, something else came into view. Warrick punched keys again as the screen focused. A female hand came into view, holding a lit cigarette and wearing a charm bracelet.

The two CSIs turned and smiled at each other.

**Chapter 3 - From the light, there came order**

December 30 - 02:06

"Hey Griss," she said, sighing and setting her kit by the door. "You're never going to believe what I just went through in the stairwell."

Grissom looked up from his position on the floor at the edge of the bed. He carefully lifted the tweezers, which were clamped onto a piece of hair, and slid them into a small evidence bag.

"Let me guess," he said. "You found a couple of drunken lovers enjoying a tête-à-tête away from the foot traffic?"

"Close enough. I interrupted a guy coming to meet a prostitute there. Apparently she's a regular to that landing. What've you got in here?" She glanced around the room, noticing where he'd already taken fingerprint dustings in several spots, but otherwise the room remained in order. "Looks pretty tidy."

"Almost meticulously so, but lucky for us, they haven't had any bedding changed out lately. The top sheet is hanging out below the edge of the cover; they made the bed themselves. Grab your camera and photograph this layout real quick. We're gonna need to swab the sheets." Grissom got up off his knees and turned his attention to his notepad.

"They? How many do you think were in here?" She snapped off pictures of the bed from different angles.

Grissom nodded over his shoulder at the opened closet door.

"Two suitcases and two carry-ons in there. Mr. Hadler had a female guest with him during his stay. Found airline tickets on the counter, return trip to Dallas for Hadler and one Miss Laura Durden."

"But his wife was back home in Dallas, thinking he was in Mexico on business. Nice. So where's the lucky girlfriend?" Her camera kept clicking away as she walked around the room.

"Uniforms are checking on it," he said, picking up a gold band off the floor. He stared at the ring as he held it up, and his voice turned philosophical. "When a man has once loved a woman he will do anything for her except continue to love her."

"Keats?" Sara asked.

"Wilde," he replied, bagging the ring.

"Ahh. I dunno, just doesn't seem like you should get married if it isn't really love, ya know? All this scheming and hiding, why go through it all?" She sighed. "You wanna just bag all the bedding and bring it with us?"

He reached into his kit and pulled out a small flashlight attached to a long cord and a pair of orange goggles. Seeing him, she turned around to avoid letting the light hit her eyes and flipped off the overhead light switch.

"Looks like we're gonna need to. All of it's covered with DNA." Turning the light off and removing his goggles, he sighed. She turned the light back on and helped him gather the bedding, placing each piece into separate evidence bags.

"Don't you ever get tired of seeing this stuff, day in, day out? Collecting all the evidence to prove that humans are just creatures of immediate gratification, unable to control primitive urges, no matter who it hurts?"

He stopped and looked at her. "Not everyone is like that, Sara. We see it because of the business we're in. Not everyone gets mixed up in murder either. Sex and crime go hand in hand. It's just the way the job goes."

"I guess. It's just hard to remind yourself sometimes, ya know?" She sighed again, looking into his eyes. "Just once, I'd like to see random acts of kindness instead of depravity. You hit the bathroom yet?"

"Not yet." He was standing over the bedside lamp stand, taking a charcoal rubbing of the notepad beside the phone.

"Looks like I've got a number here though. Officer Braxton?" he called toward the door. "Can you get a copy of the call log from check-in until you arrived on the scene?"

The officer nodded. "I'll get right on it, Sir," he said, turning to exit the room. His eyes caught Sara's, and he smiled at her. She blushed lightly, grabbing her camera before stepping into the bathroom.

The exchange caught Grissom off-guard. A wave of jealousy washed over him, but he kept his emotions hidden. The conversation he'd been having with her about fidelity and human nature had been making him tense, tempting him to break his silence and make the first move toward her saddened heart. Watching her delicate, womanly response to Braxton had stabbed at him like a knife, twisting and turning until he felt raw inside.

The man that had rented this room for a tryst with his girlfriend only reminded him of all the pain he knew could come when two people weren't meant to be together, but he'd heard her unvoiced words as she spoke about marriage. She believed in true, lasting love. She just didn't think it happened very often. He could almost feel her disappointment with the rest of their species, because he felt it too. Most of all, though, he wanted to give her a reason to believe again.

_'Quit giving over to flights of fancy, Gil; you don't deserve her,' _he thought to himself.

"Hey Griss? Come take a look at this," she called to him.

Shaking off the weight in his heart, he walked into the bathroom. She was standing at the sink, dusting several distinct impressions. "What is it?"

"What does this look like to you?" She pointed out a series of prints, some that looked like palm and fingerprints, and two large rounded prints between them.

He raised an eyebrow. "Looks like someone was sitting on the counter."

"Right." After finishing peeling back the collection tape on each impression, she turned around and backed up to the sink in front of the cheek impressions, legs spread wide to avoid trampling through any evidence on the floor.

"These impressions are pretty small, and Hadler was a large man, so we can assume they aren't his. So then her palms would be here," she said, holding her hands just inches above the counter.

"Which means these fingerprints would be the person standing in front of her." He closed the distance between them, holding his hands beside hers, where each set of four finger impressions lay. "So we should be looking for ejaculate on the floor beneath this spot." He went down to one knee before her to explore the floor.

"I don't think so, look how the fingers wrap around the edge of the counter. Whoever made them wasn't leaning down from above..."

"He was holding on from below." He looked up at her then, his face less than a foot away from the zipper of her jeans. He looked away quickly, and then stood again. "So he was on the floor in front of her. Make sure you dust it. Good call."

He turned around and looked over the edge of the huge Jacuzzi tub. His heart was still pounding as he fought to keep himself from turning red-faced after his nearly disastrous encounter with her... well, that part of her anatomy. Staring at the bathtub wasn't helping matters, either, because his mind flashed with images of himself in there with her, surrounded by warm water, soapy bubbles, and votive candles lining the edge of the basin. He watched her smile at him in the fantasy, her legs on either side of his hips, her hands roaming over his chest, her breasts only just obscured beneath the bubbles. Their lips met. His hands reached down to her waist and pulled her closer to him, as her legs wrapped around him. Their kiss was slow and teasing, a smoldering heat leaping back and forth between them as steam rose from the water all around them.

"I think we're done here," she said, breaking into his fantasy.

"Wh-what?" he barely choked out as the daydream evaporated, leaving him reeling.

"I think I got everything. Looks like two different types of hair in this brush though, one blonde and one brunette, and both long. I don't think the girlfriend's was the only pair of thighs that parted in this room."

_'Oh, God,' _he thought. _'Something's got to give here, before I start really hallucinating.'_

"Yeah, I guess we've got enough to start on." Gathering his composure, he walked out of the tiny tiled den of fantasy to begin collecting his equipment and evidence.

"Hang on, what's this?" she called, causing him to turn back around to her. She bent down to collect a small, silver pendant. Lifting it up, she inspected the charm. "Looks like a sorority pendant. _Lambda Delta Lambda_. Ring any bells?"

Grissom glanced back at her, the joke coming to the tip of his tongue instantly.

"It's all Greek to me," he said, blue eyes flashing at her as he grinned.

She groaned. "Quick, catch my eyes before they roll all over the evidence," she groaned. "It's a lesbian sorority. I had a roommate in San Francisco that used to have monthly get-togethers with her sisters. Question is, why would a lesbian become a man's mistress? I don't understand people sometimes." The pendant went into another bag.

"All right, let's get this finished up. We've got a lot of work ahead of us when we get back," he said as he glanced around the room. "Brass called while you were in the staircase. He took Nicky back to the lab with him with all the security tapes."

"Then you won't mind if I take a nap in the backseat on the way back, right?" She smiled at him, exhaustion clearly showing on her face.

He narrowed his eyes at her. God, she was beautiful. "You sure you trust me?" he asked, grinning.

"On second thought, with the way you drive, I'd wind up on the floor anyway," she teased.

"Hey!" he sounded, his tone and eyes filled with mock offense. "I'm a very good driver."

"Def-definitely a good driver," she teased, hoping he'd seen "Rainman".

"Hoffman would be insulted, you know," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Hoffman's never had to ride shotgun with you, either. I'll start loading up," she said, smiling sleepily.

"I'll just be licking my wounds in the corner here," he replied, and set to packing up his case.

December 30 - 03:11

Catherine peeked her head inside the DNA lab. "Hey Greg," she called out, smiling at him.

"Hey Cath, you're just in time." Greg Sanders leaned over and retrieved the pages of his report as the last one rolled off the printer. "Looks like Hadler was having a fun night. I've got a BAC of 0.15, traces of marijuana, higher traces of MDMA, and here's your injection."

Catherine scanned the report he'd just handed her. Heroine. High levels.

"Damnit," she muttered, and sighed.

"Thought you'd be happy. The guy was swimming in chemical love... well, that and a canal," he added with a grin.

"Yeah, but we still can't rule it a homicide yet. For all we know, he did this himself. Besides, these levels don't look lethal anyway."

"Well, back to the drawing board, I guess. Sorry Cath."

"It's okay, Greg. Thanks for getting this back so quickly." She sounded disheartened.

"Good timing. Everything else I have is still cooking." He smiled at her sweetly, trying to turn her mood.

She nodded absently, still staring at the tox report as she walked out of the lab. As she walked through the door, her phone rang.

"Willows," she answered, and listened intently for a few seconds. "I'll get Warrick and head over there now."

December 30 - 03:27

Her heart was light around him for the first time in ages, it seemed. They'd had what she felt was about as close to a heart-to-heart as was possible with Gil Grissom as they'd processed the hotel room. On the ride back to the lab, they'd chatted leisurely, theorizing on what had happened in the hotel room, on why Norman Hadler was dead, but there were too many clues missing. When they'd finally pulled up in front of the lab, he turned to her.

"We'll just have to listen to what the evidence tells us."

"We always do, Griss."

"You're a good CSI, Sara. I don't tell you that often enough."

She felt a blush begin to rise, and quickly changed the subject. "Thanks Griss. I appreciate that. Guess we better get this stuff inside. Still got a long night ahead of us."

With that, she opened the door and hopped out the passenger side, leaving him watching for her, biting back the words that kept trying to surface on his tongue.

Nick found them in the sorting room, each collecting the pieces of evidence they were about to examine themselves, and pulling out the pieces to send to Greg.

"Hey guys," he offered cheerfully. "Warrick and I went over most of the tapes, still have some more to go over. Found a few of Hadler in the elevators with different women, but most importantly, we found splashdown at the Venetian."

"Good job Nick. What's in it?" Grissom said while gathering the pieces of bedding to analyze.

"Most of it's out of frame, but we did manage to make out the hand of a woman at the scene, smoking a cigarette. Wearing some kind of silver charm bracelet."

"Charm bracelet?" Sara said as her head popped up. She glanced at Grissom, then back at Nick. "We found a sorority charm in the room. Think it could be that easy?"

"Probably not, but we'll work it just the same. Nick, why don't you take these prints?"

Nick nodded and took the bag containing the charm.

"Got it," he said, then turned and walked down the hall.

**Chapter 4 - From the order, there came logic**

December 30 - 03:34

Catherine pulled the Tahoe to a spot just beyond the yellow crime tape surrounding the area. Three black-and-whites were parked as well, their red and blue lights illuminating the scene in flashes. She looked over at Warrick, who was watching an ambulance pull up in front of them.

"Let's go," she said.

As they stepped out of the vehicle, they were assaulted with the odor of human decay in a wet environment. Choking back their gag reflexes, they grabbed their kits and started walking to the crime scene. Seeing them approach, the lead officer met them at the tape.

"You guys with CSI?" he asked.

"That's what our badges say," Warrick chirped back at him. The officer narrowed his eyes and glared.

"Garbage collector called her in about a half hour ago. Said he was working the block and smelled it when he was picking up in front of this house," he said as he walked them over to the scene.

Catherine pulled out her flashlight.

"It's a wonder the residents didn't smell it. Good grief." She leaned down and shone the flashlight down the wide mouth of a rain gutter. Inside was the body of a very petite blonde woman in a black cocktail dress, floating face down.

"Aww, now see? Doesn't matter how hard they are to find, someone always wants to throw away a perfectly good woman," Warrick said facetiously.

"Alright, smartass. She's floating, which means she's been in there a while. Explains the stench. Call the coroner. They're gonna have a fun time trying to get her outta there. Better get your hip waders on too."

His eyes brightened as he smiled at her.

"I love going fishing when I'm on duty," he quipped.

"Really? Never would've thought you were the type." She turned to the officer and asked, "You guys touch anything?" He shook his head. Nodding, she turned and looked at the surrounding houses.

"Anyone home around here?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Most of the residents are out of town for the holidays, but the neighbors across the street say they've been home all week. Jones and McMann are inside with them," he said, leading her towards the house.

She turned back at Warrick. "I'll be right back. Call me if you need me."

"Somehow I knew I'd be the one crawling in the gutter. Stay dry, Cath." He smirked and went back to process the scene.

"We heard the sirens. It woke us up," Mrs. George told Catherine. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary tonight, though."

Her husband sat beside her, clearly exhausted and trying not to nod off during the interview.

"Actually, Mrs. George, the unusual activity might have been last night or even the night before. Do you remember anything from then?" Catherine asked, and the young woman shook her head no. When Catherine looked at Stan George, he shook his head as well.

The woman shook her head. "The street's been really quite this last couple of weeks. This neighborhood is mostly young families, and most of our neighbors go visit their parents for the holidays. The quiet has been kinda nice, actually."

"Mommy?" a small voice squeaked from the hallway. Catherine turned and saw a small girl about 4 years old, she judged.

"Lindsey? What are you doing up, baby?" Mrs. George stood to go to her daughter. "Excuse me a moment, Miss Willows." Catherine nodded to her, and watched silently.

"I had a nightmare. Who are they?" she asked, pointing at Catherine and the two officers with her.

Norma George looked over at the strangers in her living room, then back at her daughter. "They're police officers, honey. They came here to ask Mommy and Daddy some questions, but everything is okay. You want me to tuck you back in?"

The little girl was clearly more interested in the word police than she was in going back to bed. She shook her head and approached Catherine slowly.

"Hi," she said, her voice tiny and shy.

Catherine couldn't help but smile at her.

"Hello. My name is Catherine. Did you know I have a daughter named Lindsey too?"

The little girl's eyes widened. "Really? Where is she?"

"She's at my house, sleeping. Do you want to sit here next to me?" When the girl nodded, Catherine patted the couch seat beside her. "You're pretty like my Lindsey is, did you know that?"

The little girl looked down, embarrassed.

"Thank you," she said politely. "Are you here because of the big black car the other night?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow and glanced around at the other adults in the room, who seemed as interested as she was in Lindsey George's question.

"Did you see something happen outside, sweetie?"

The girl nodded. "Last night. My dolly is scared of the dark, and she woke me up. She said someone was outside."

"Did you go look to see?" she asked softly. Lindsey nodded. "That was very grown-up, you know. That's what mommies do, too."

The statement made the little girl smile brightly.

"So what did you see outside?" Catherine asked.

The girl thought about it for a moment. "There was a big black car."

"Can you show me what it looked like?" Catherine led her to the window so she could look at the vehicles parked outside. Lindsey shook her head.

"It was long," she said.

"Like a limousine?" Catherine asked. Lindsey nodded. "Okay, that's really good. Did you see anything else?"

"It was raining. A lady got out of the car, but she didn't have a unbella." Lindsey's face scrunched up as she tried to remember more, and Catherine suppressed a grin at her mispronunciation. "I think she had brown hair," the girl finally said.

"Do you remember what she was wearing, maybe? Did you see what she did when she got out of the car?"

The little girl thought about it, but shook her head. "Dolly is scared of lightning, so we hid under the covers."

Catherine smiled at her. "You know what? I'm scared of lightning too. It's pretty loud, huh?" Lindsey smiled and nodded at her.

"Mommy, can she come up to my room to play?" Lindsey asked hopefully. Her mother looked at Catherine, who shook her head.

"I'm sorry baby, but I think she needs to go back to work. You want me to come read you a story?"

Lindsey jumped up and down at the idea. "Yay!" she screamed, and ran down the hall to her room, quickly forgetting Catherine.

"I'll be there in a minute, baby," she said, and then turned back to Catherine. "She really likes you. Is there anything we should be doing?"

Catherine reached into her pocket and pulled out her business card. "Give me a call if she remembers anything else, or if either of you do. I really appreciate your help, Mrs. George. We'll let you folks get back to sleep now."

"Thank you," Norma said, and let her husband see them out while she went back to her daughter's room.

December 30 - 03:42

"David, hand me that scalpel, would you?" Robbins said, as he readied himself to autopsy Hadler's internal organs. He had thoroughly checked the entire body without finding any ligature marks or other lacerations or abrasions, and had just concluded the examination of the man's brain.

His assistant brought over the entire tray of equipment. Robbins picked up the tiny knife and made a clean incision down the man's upper torso. As he cut, he noticed small bubbles coming up in the pooled blood.

"What the... damnit! David, get the x-ray ready. I should've known when I couldn't find any other wounds." Robbins cleared away the utensil trays around the body and started pushing the examination table over to where his assistant, David Phillips, was preparing the x-ray.

They prepared the body and completed a series of shots in short order, then developed the film. A few minutes later, they both stood in front of a light board, analyzing the results.

"Gas embolism. That's why they used an injection. We would've missed it completely," David observed as they both looked at the intricate pattern of arteries and veins in the man's chest, which were spotted with large air bubbles.

Robbins picked up his phone and dialed a stored number.

"Grissom, it's Robbins. We've got a cause of death on your floater. Yeah, I'll be here. Okay."

As he pushed a button to end the call, he looked back at his assistant.

"Cause of death? Excessive gas."

December 30 - 04:07

"Air embolism?" Sara asked, looking over the autopsied body of Norman Hadler.

"It's the reason why you tap the air bubbles out of a syringe before you give an injection," Robbins explained. "Usually you see it in SCUBA divers who aren't watching their depth, and the pressure causes the oxygen being carried in the arterial blood to form pockets of air in the arteries. But, when an air bubble enters the circulatory system through a vein, it gets pumped back up towards the heart, causing an acute right ventricular obstruction," Robbins explained, indicating the flow of blood on Hadler's chest x-ray.

"It's then pumped to the lung, where the capillaries are too small to allow them to pass, so they get tangled up in the blood vessels, which effectively jams all blood flow, and death occurs within minutes," he continued. "He would've been gasping, probably felt chest pain, rapid heartbeat, some dizziness and disorientation. Probably thought he was having a heart attack."

"Could it have been an accident? The injector forgot to push out the air in the syringe?" Grissom offered.

"Not with volume like this. A small amount of air in the blood would be painful, but not lethal, and could have been treated medically," Robbins said. "I'd estimate, based on these x-rays, he's got about 100 cc's of air in his system."

"The typical street syringe is only about 20 cc's, though," Sara said. Raising an eyebrow, she continued. "So how'd he get that much in him?"

"My guess? Whoever was shooting him up got the heroin in first, counting on that euphoric high to distract him while they removed the plunger out the back end, then re-inserted it, pushing the air in. Probably several times," Robbins replied.

"That wasn't an accident," Sara commented.

"We need to find that syringe," Grissom said. "It's our murder weapon."

"I worked that scene with Catherine," Sara said. "We searched the area. There was nothing in the water. All the trash cans have been emptied by now."

"I don't think we're gonna have to dig through trash this time. I need someone who's willing to get wet and very messy," he said, smirking at her.

Sara raised an eyebrow and gave him a "don't-you-do-it" look, but was relieved soon enough.

He pursed his lips, refusing to smile at her, but his eyes spoke his amusement.

"Let's tell Greg and Nick to get their wet gear ready. I think this is the perfect job for our resident lab rat," he said.

"So cruel," she teased, and then headed out of the morgue. He watched her leaving, trying not to stare openly at her rear. Dr. Robbins, however, brought his appreciation to a halt.

"Gil, there's something else," he said.

Grissom looked over at him.

"It's not easy to administer an injection, specifically to a vein instead of an artery. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. Your suspect will either have a medical background, or be a long-time heroin user. But, it wasn't a totally clean endeavor," he said, switching x-ray slides to show one of the hand. "He left behind a piece of the needle, there, in the base of the first metacarpal. Might've been broken off during some kind of struggle, or maybe just in a hurry to get finished; all I can do is speculate on that. I already sent it up to Greg."

Grissom nodded, incorporating this new data into his knowledge of the case thus far.

"Thanks Al," he said, and turned to follow Sara back to the lab.

**Chapter 5 - From the logic, there came understanding**

December 30 - 06:02

"I really hope you have better news for me this time, Doc," Catherine said as she stepped into the morgue.

"Good morning to you, too, Catherine. This one's almost as interesting as Hadler," Robbins said as she approached the examination table.

"Late 20's female, overall good physical health," he continued. "I'm gonna place time of death somewhere between 24-28 hours ago. Victim sustained a circular fracture to the 2nd and 3rd cervical vertebrae, consistent with a hard twist to the head. Bruising around the neck indicates the carotid artery was split at this time, followed by the spinal column being severed as the neck bones fractured and sliced it. No defensive wounds visible. Minimal amounts of water in the lung; death occurred before she went in. Three identical triangular-shaped impressions on the lower back caused bruising pre-mortem by pressure, not a blow. Stomach was empty; she hadn't eaten a meal in a while. However, she'd been eating something," he said, smiling, as he opened the girl's mouth. "Or rather, someone."

Catherine leaned down and peered into the girl's mouth. There, wedged between her upper canine and incisor, was a curly brown hair. She smirked and looked up at Robbins.

"I'll take that," she said, and lifted the hair to place in an evidence bag. "You run a rape kit?"

He nodded, and then spoke, "Signs of several sexual activities within 24 hrs of death, but nothing to indicate force."

She sighed and nodded. "Alright. Thanks Doc." She gathered the autopsy photos of the bruises and the evidence bag containing the pubic hair and headed back toward the DNA lab.

December 30 - 06:21

Catherine found Grissom, Sara, Warrick and Nick in the break room, drinking coffee and discussing the cases. The woman they'd pulled out of the storm gutter had been identified as Laura Durden, Norman Hadler's companion. The realization that everyone was working the same case hadn't surprised the staff; they'd long since stopped such reactions to double homicides.

"What about the hotel room DNA?" Nick asked.

Sara shook her head. "Norman Hadler, Laura Durden, and two unknown females."

"Maybe she was working with someone, offed the old man and then her partner decided to keep her quiet too," Warrick suggested.

"Didn't you say the video showed her holding a cigarette?" Catherine asked, and all four turned to her.

"Yeah, but that's about all we saw," Nick replied.

"Then it's not her. Just got back from her autopsy. Laura Durden wasn't a smoker."

Sara smirked at Nick. "Pay up."

Nick cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "I gotta quit listening to Warrick."

"Someone also left behind a little souvenir in Laura Durden's teeth," Catherine said, holding up the bag with the pubic hair inside. "Brown hair, and the little girl did say the woman in the limousine was brunette."

Grissom was suspiciously silent in the corner, but Catherine could see his wheels turning. "Whatcha got, boss?"

He shook his head. "We're jumping ahead of ourselves, trying to find the quickest path from point A to point B, not accounting for points C and D." He stared at photographs from both scenes.

"I don't think Laura Durden had any idea that her sugar daddy had been murdered," he said. "She died a violent, personal death. Norman's death was detached, cold. Whoever did this used different MOs because he was killing for different reasons, and even that's assuming it's the same killer. We need to figure out what those reasons were."

"Okay. So Hadler takes his girlfriend on a vacation to Vegas, lies to his wife about where he is," she said, looking over the timeline they'd put together of the couple's whereabouts during their stay. "They do some gambling, see some shows, and spend a lot of time alone in the hotel room." She stopped, looked back and forth between two pages.

"There's a call here to a number in Summerlin," she said, looking over at Grissom. "We have an interview to take."

He watched her theorizing with the rest of his team, but he was listening to her words. He was listening to the slow, melodic tune of her voice. He was watching the way she bit her lower lip when she was deep in thought, and the way she traced her fingertips lightly up and down the sides of her coffee cup.

_'Damnit, Gil. You're doing it again.'_

But he didn't care anymore. He knew none of it was wise, but he was going to take the next step. Spending the shift next to her, uncomfortably aware of the way she charmed other men, he had come to the conclusion that the only way to keep this from becoming an obsession was to stick his toes in the water and test the temperature. It was time. The thought made him smile.

He looked up to see Catherine watching him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. "You got it solved already?"

He nodded slightly. "I think I'm on the right track."

December 30 - 07:00

"All right, guys, let's keep it together for a few," Grissom said paternally to his staff. "We know the hows; we need the whos."

Catherine spoke up. "We're still running prints and DNA. I've got PD tracking down the limo." Her voice was even, spitting facts.

He looked around at his staff, all of which looked tired and worn. If any of them had ideas to bounce, they were too exhausted to bring it up.

Grissom pursed his lips and nodded. "All right, everyone go home and think on it. You all did good work tonight, and I want you all to get some rest before the next shift. Pending unforeseen events, here's the lineup for tomorrow night. Sara, Brass and I will be out doing interviews. Nicky, I want you and Greg to go search the filter traps at the Venetian; we need that syringe. Catherine, Hadler's widow is supposed to be coming in to ID the body, if we're not back yet when she gets here, I want you to do the interview. Warrick, I want you to finish running the prints from both scenes. Our murderer is in there somewhere. Questions?"

No one spoke. His CSIs had already clocked out, and he couldn't blame them. He had other things to take care of too.

She sat on an empty bench in the locker room with her jacket laid beside her, staring into space while her mind internally processed the images she'd seen and the facts she'd learned. Interspersed with threads of the cases was a recurring image - Grissom, on his knees before her, looking up at her for that one breathless moment with a thunderstorm of emotion and confusion brewing in his crystalline blue eyes.

Remembering it now, her heart still fluttered in her chest. She had to be wrong. He wasn't interested. Indulging herself like this wasn't helping matters any. Of course, that had never stopped her before.

"Sara?" he said softly, peeking around the row of lockers. When he saw her, he walked down the row, stopping a few feet from her. "You look... stressed. Is _anything_ okay?"

She smiled. "There's a lot that's okay, Griss. I just hate the cases like these." She looked up at him, giving in and letting herself believe, for a moment, in the electricity sparking between them when their eyes met.

He held a compassionate expression, standing with his hands in his pockets in front of her. When she sighed softly and looked down at her feet, he sat beside her.

"Wanna talk about it over breakfast?" he asked. She looked over at him, surprised.

She thought about it for a moment before speaking. "You buyin'?"

"I can't imagine a vegetarian could bankrupt me," he said, smiling. "Yeah, I'm buying."

"You drivin'?" she asked, prodding him.

He couldn't keep himself from chuckling. "Whatever the lady desires."

Their eyes locked as they smiled at each other. _'Oh, but I desire so much more,' _she thought.

They had taken a corner booth in Sam's Diner, a local hole-in-the-wall a few blocks from headquarters. Over omelettes and coffee, they'd bounced around several topics, starting with theories on the cases and progressing into a more intimate chat between old friends.

"I've missed this," she said abruptly between sips of coffee.

"The coffee's not _that_ good here," he responded.

"I'm not talking about the coffee. I mean you and me. Talking. It's been a while," she said, her soft brown eyes darting between his hand, which was holding a fork to spear the last piece of his omelette, and his eyes, which were suddenly locked onto her face.

"I know. That's my fault, and I'm sorry. I've had things to deal with," he said, smoothly avoiding saying anything too personal. He put his fork down. "I was hoping to get a chance to address it this morning."

"Well, I'm listening."

For a moment, their eyes met again, and he felt his resolve waver, but he pressed on. "I've missed you too." She raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically, but not speaking.

"I've, uh, I've had a lot of time to think about the people in my life... or the lack thereof. I guess I've been sequestering myself for a long time without realizing it," he said, pausing to take a sip of coffee. "I'd like to try to fix that."

She watched him as he spoke, new information being analyzed with every word and tone. She wasn't sure where he was headed with this, but she felt warm inside knowing that he'd at least decided she was worth being part of the solution.

"Got a game plan?" she asked.

"Thought I'd just play it by ear," he said, smiling amusedly. The waitress stopped at their table to drop off the check and refill their cups. Grissom thanked her and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Laying a 20 bill on top of the check, he looked up at her. "And speaking of ears, this brings me to something I should've told you months ago..."

**Chapter 6 - From the understanding, there comes emotion**

December 30 - 21:56

Sara and Grissom stood behind Brass as he knocked on the door of the home of Stacy Armstrong. A curvy young brunette woman opened the door, blowing cigarette smoke over Jim's head as she stood there.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hello ma'am, I'm Jim Brass, this is Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he said, showing his badge. "We're here to see Stacy Armstrong. Is that you?" Brass asked.

The woman shook her head. "No. Stacy went to run some errands. What's the sitch?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, and you are?" Jim replied.

"Angela Payne. I'm her wife," she said pointedly. "Look, if y'all are here to bust her, she runs a legit escort business."

The woman pulled again on her cigarette, staring at them defiantly.

"Actually, Miss Payne, we'd just like to talk to her about an investigation we have underway. Any chance we can wait for her?" Sara spoke up, hoping she'd be more receptive to another woman than she had been to Brass.

Angela looked Sara up and down for a moment. Nodding her approval, she opened the door and turned around to lead them into the house. Grissom raised an eyebrow at Sara, who shrugged and smiled before following the woman into her home.

Angela brewed a pot of coffee while they waited, and Grissom asked if he could take a look around. Angela declined, telling him she'd rather he wait until Stacy got home. Resigned, he occupied himself with looking over the living room, glancing at the photographs and various other knick-knacks around the room. Brass spent his time watching out the window for signs of Armstrong's return, and Sara flipped through the magazines on the coffee table.

After they waited another 20 minutes or so, a tall, curvy woman with dark hair stepped through the front door, looked at the strangers in her living room, and sighed.

"I daresay this isn't just a friendly visit from the LVPD. Good evening," she said, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door. "Angela?" she called.

"Miss Armstrong?" Brass inquired. When she stared at him blankly, he continued. "I'm Detective Jim Brass. This is Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle with the crime lab. We were hoping to get a chance to talk to you."

"Anything I can do to help Vegas' best," she said bitingly. Her eyes glanced to the kitchen doorway, where Angela had just stepped into view. The smaller woman shrugged and looked apologetic, but shook her head as if to say 'I didn't know what else to do'. Grissom watched the exchange silently.

Sara shook her head softly, and addressed the woman. "Miss Armstrong, first I'd like to thank you for your time. We just have a few questions to ask you and then we'll be on our way."

"Look, Miss... Sidle, right? Can we start by telling me what this is about? I've got a really long night ahead of me, and I was really hoping I could get a chance to unwind first, ya know?"

"I understand. We're working on a double homicide investigation, and your home phone was dialed from one of the victims' hotel room the night he was murdered," she explained.

Stacy laughed. "I get a lot of calls from people, honey. Got a name?"

"Norman Hadler. Ring any bells?"

At the mention of his name, Stacy's face fell.

"Norman's dead?" she asked, unbelieving. "I-I just talked to him yesterday. We knew each other in college. He was... a friend," she said, crossing the room to slowly take a seat on the couch. "How?"

Grissom decided the best course of action would be to let Sara talk to the woman, so he stood quietly by the mantel, observing.

"We're not really at liberty to say at this point, Miss Armstrong, but I believe your friend was murdered. Can you tell us about the conversation you had with him yesterday?" She sat across from Stacy on the couch, turning to her and speaking softly to the obviously distressed woman.

"He, uhm... he was in town on business. Just wanted to ring me up and chat for a while, you know. Old friends. Said he was leaving today so he wouldn't have time to see me, but he promised he'd visit next time he was in town. I just can't believe he's gone," she said, her eyes staring blankly toward the window. "Angel, can you fix me a drink please?" Grissom watched as she stepped back into the kitchen.

"He didn't mention anything else? Any other plans while he was in town?" Sara asked.

"No, we only talked for about ten minutes. It was just chitchat, ya know? It's just so... oh God, does Delia know yet?" she asked, her voice turning worried.

Sara looked up at Brass, who was sitting quietly in a chair near the door. He nodded and replied, "She's supposed to come into the station tonight."

Stacy nodded, and accepted the glass tumbler of orange juice that Angela brought to her.

"Thank you sweetie," she said, taking the woman's hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Miss Armstrong," Sara started.

"Please, call me Stacy," she requested.

"Alright, Stacy. You run an escort business, correct?" Sara asked.

"That's right. Moonlight Requisitions, and a pretty profitable lesbian adult website," Stacy said.

"We know that you had a girl working the Mirage regularly, meeting clients in the stairwell. There was a call to your work number made from his hotel room on the day he died. Did you send a girl to an old friend?" Sara asked.

"Norman knew that if I wasn't at the house, he could reach me at work. No secrets there, but I didn't know he called the office," she replied, took another sip of juice.

"So you never met with him, then?" Sara asked.

"No, unfortunately. I put in a lot of overtime this week at the office; it's a busy time of year. After I get home, I've got live cam shows lined up on my site," Stacy answered.

"Would it be okay if I took a look around?" Grissom asked, interrupting the flow of conversation between the women.

Stacy and Angela both looked at him. Stacy's composure returned to her almost immediately.

"If you had a warrant, I'd already know about it... but I don't have anything to hide. Go ahead," she told him.

Grissom nodded at Brass, who stood to join him. When they were out of sight, Sara turned back to the women.

"Thank you. It makes our jobs a lot easier when we get cooperation. Just between us girls, those guys don't have a clue how to talk to women," she said, and smiled, but she was glancing over at the entrance to the hallway where Grissom had gone.

"No, I wouldn't think he does. He talks with his eyes." Stacy said, casually. When Sara looked at her, she smiled.

"I couldn't help noticing the way he looks at you," Stacy said, pausing to take a sip of orange juice.

"What?" Sara asked.

"Don't act so shocked. He's right about it, of course. You're one of those girls who never realize anyone's looking, and it makes you all the more beautiful. I can see why he likes you."

Sara felt flushed, but couldn't bring herself to respond. Her eyes darted around the room for a moment.

"Don't get all upset honey. I'm not about to say anything that's worth worrying yourself over. I just believe that girls like us need to hear it once in a while. Of course, it would mean more if he said it, I'm sure, but he just strikes me as the type who doesn't say much. If the sparks weren't flying between you two, I'd be tempted to invite you over to our side," Stacy said, then gave Sara a warm, sensual smile. Almost instantly, Sara's investigator wheels began turning.

"Is that what made you turn to women?" she asked. "The freely given emotion?"

"No, I wouldn't say it was anything quite so dramatic as you're thinking. I never got jilted, never got hurt by some inconsiderate guy. See, I never had my hopes on any man. I never set my heart on the line for one of them. No, I waited 'til college before I started experimenting with girls. I just realized I liked them better. That's when I knew. All it took was one girl; she was kinda like you, come to think of it. She was all about school. Worked hard, never had time for boys or goofing around. Never realized how beautiful she was 'til she met me. And honey, once she had my heart, she knew it, but she gave it all back in spades." Stacy's eyes glistened lightly as she spoke with fondness of the woman.

"Right up until she left you, right? Doesn't matter what gender they are, anyone can break your heart," Sara said, feeling crossed between a psychic and a psychiatrist. It was an odd sensation, anytime she felt like she could read a person. The problem, this time, was the unnerving realization that she could understand where the woman was coming from.

"It stung, I'll admit that. But I like to think that one day, she'll come back into my life. Doesn't mean I have to stop living, or loving, in the mean time. When the wheel of fate turns, there's no point in worrying about what it'll say."

"Must be nice to able to leave it all up to a higher power..." Sara said, ending the conversation as she heard Grissom's footsteps returning to the room. Brass followed behind him.

"Well ladies, if you're finished, I think we can wrap up here and get back to the station. We appreciate your hospitality, ladies. Here's my card, call me if you need anything," he said, handing over the business card, but Stacy looked back at Sara.

"I'd probably feel more comfortable talking to you," she said, smiling. Sara grinned and handed over her card as they gathered up to leave.

"Thanks, Stacy. We appreciate your time," she said, following Grissom out the front door.

_'Anything for you, hottie,'_ Stacy thought, watching them leave.

December 20 - 23:16

"Dude, I'm telling you, he hates me," Greg said as he poured the sludge-like filtered remnants onto a sifting screen and spread them with large metal spatula. "We're trying to find a needle in a bog of primordial goo."

Nick looked up from his own bucket, grinning.

"Man, at least you're in the field, right? You know we all have to pull our share of grunt work. This one ain't so bad, ya know, two single guys, all those cute hotel employees helping us out," he said, tilting his head in the direction of a cute blonde cocktail waitress taking a shortcut through the underground basement. "Besides, think about how nice it'll be to find the murder weapon."

"I guess, dude, but I still wonder how often Grissom pulls muck duty." They'd been at it for over an hour and a half, and so far they'd found two watches, five hair barrettes, and 15 room keycards, none of which got them any closer to a murder weapon.

"He does his time, trust me," Nick chuckled. "You notice him and Sara making eyes during the meeting this morning? Something's up with them, I can feel it."

"No way. You're crazy. She's got the hots for me something fierce!" Greg replied, cockily. "At least, she does in my dreams at night," he said, chuckling.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"Hang on, I think I got something." He picked up the object and shook off the excess slime. "Looks like the plunger. We're hot."

They had known when Grissom sent them that the chlorination in the canals would destroy any DNA evidence and most likely destroy any prints on whatever they managed to find.

Greg pulled his hand up from his screen and shook the slime off. Only then could Nick see that he was holding the rest of the syringe tube.

"Here's the other half. So we're done, right?"

Nick only chuckled. "We're not done til we're done," he said, gesturing his head at the rest of the goop. "Thorough investigation."

Greg looked across the room at the 50 other buckets that were still waiting to be checked and sighed.

December 30 - 23:40

After getting back to headquarters, Grissom, Sara, and Brass had each gone separate directions with tasks ahead of them. He'd sent Catherine and Warrick to work an auto theft, and Greg and Nick were still at the Venetian.

"Dr. Grissom? Brass is here with Delia Hadler. They're waiting for you in conference room A," an intern said, poking his head inside the DNA lab, where Grissom was analyzing the hairs he'd lifted in Hadler's bathroom.

"Thank you," he said, and gathered his notes. Walking down the hall, he stopped at the computer lab to get Sara. They paused outside the conference room to look at the small woman inside.

"How do you tell a woman that her husband was not only cheating on her, but he was doing it with a lesbian?" she asked.

"We don't, Sara," he said, and opened the conference room door.

Brass stood when he saw them enter.

"Mrs. Hadler, this is Gil Grissom, Criminalistics Supervisor, and Sara Sidle. They've been running the investigation of your husband's murder."

Mrs. Hadler looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes. She looked as though she hadn't slept at all since Homicide had called her to tell her that her husband had been found. Sara felt sorry for her, but had to remember to keep her distance. She took a seat across the table from the widow.

"Mrs. Hadler, I'm very sorry for your loss. Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?" Sara asked. The woman shook her head.

"I can't imagine anyone would want to hurt him. He's a... he was a good man," she said, breaking down into sobs again.

Sara frowned, looking up at Grissom for guidance. He cleared his throat and sat down next to Sara. "Do you know why he was in Vegas, Mrs. Hadler?"

"Oh, God. I don't know. He's been under a lot of stress at work lately. They've been making him work long hours and he's always exhausted. Maybe he decided he needed to get away for a while, from all of it," she said, pausing to take a deep breath to steady her nerves. She looked up at Grissom.

"He liked to gamble. I never approved of it. I never thought he would try to hide it from me though. God, I just can't believe he's gone!" she said, burying her face in her hands.

"Mrs. Hadler, it's our job to find out how this happened. I promise you, we are going to do everything we can to find your husband's killer."

Delia nodded, sobbing. "Thank you. When can I take him home?"

Grissom looked at Brass, who answered her question. "We'd like a couple more days, if that's ok with you," he told her. When she nodded, Grissom spoke up.

"There's one more thing we'd like to ask, Mrs. Hadler. We know you were in Texas when your husband was killed. Can we take your fingerprints and a swab of the inside of your mouth so we can eliminate you from any the evidence?"

**Chapter 7 - From the emotion, there comes resolve**

December 31 - 01:00

They were sitting side by side in front of a computer screen, isolating the various different pendants each chapter of Lambda Delta Lambda, trying to find a match to the one they'd found in Norman Hadler's hotel room. Each was starting to get frustrated, when finally, the computer screen flashed and they looked up to see the word "MATCH" flashing above the split screen. Sara smirked.

"We have a winner," she said, and hit ENTER to bring up more details. "Lambda Delta Lambda, UCLA - 1991-1994. It says there were 65 made."

"Well, as long as we've our work cut out for us," he said sarcastically. "Narrow it to persons currently living in Las Vegas."

She punched a few more keys, then read the results back to him. "Down to 12."

"That many? Geez. Pull up the list. Let's see who's missing her lucky charm," Grissom said.

When the database finished compiling, Sara scrolled down the list of names. "Fe, fi, fo... FUM," she said, stopping at a name. Hitting ENTER again, she pulled up the profile of the number 9 name on the list.

"Well, well, well. Hello, Angela Payne. How's your skill with a needle lately?" Grissom said.

She turned to look at him. "Armstrong said she and Hadler were 'friends'. Maybe there was more going on, and the jealous housewife decides to take care of the situation?"

"Possible," he said. "Let's get some more background on..."

"Hey, Griss?" Greg said, poking his head in the door.

"Yes, Greg?" Grissom replied, sighing in irritation.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, I just thought you'd want to know as soon as possible. First, I matched the hypodermic from the filter to the tip found in autopsy. And, I got matches on the DNA from the hotel room," he said, and smiled.

"Are you going to tell me?" Grissom asked, wavering on the borderline between excitement and flat-out impatience.

Greg stiffened and quickly replied, "Sorry. Obviously Hadler and Durden were between the sheets. Both unknown females are visual match to the two hairs you brought me from the house, and to the one you brought from the hotel room."

Sara looked at Grissom quizzically. "Hairs?"

He smirked. "She said I could look around. The hairbrushes were just laying on the bathroom counter." Shrugging, he raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a look so cute she couldn't help but be charmed by him.

Noticing that Greg was still standing in the doorway, she reigned herself in and said, "Okay, so... Stacy's story isn't holding up. They were both in the hotel room. Why?" she asked.

"I can't tell you why, but I can give you this," Greg said, handing over another report. Sara looked at the sheet, eyes widening. Looking up at Grissom, she said, "One of them was in our stairwell turning tricks, and I'll bet it was Angela Payne. Time to get a search warrant."

Grissom winked at her and opened his cell phone to put a call in to Brass.

December 31 - 02:00

They arrived once more outside Stacy Armstrong's home - this time armed with several police officers and a search warrant. When no one answered, Brass sent officers around back to do a sweep. Grissom held Sara back by the Tahoe, glad for the ability to keep her safe, at least some of the time. He stood with his hand on the small of her back, a friendly gesture that left them both feeling distracted until Brass finally gave the "all clear" signal.

When they entered the home, they split up. Sara took the bedroom; Grissom took the bathroom. Upon entering, she spent several minutes photographing every angle of the room before looking for evidence to collect. Her first task was to dig through the hampers, where she collected both women's clothing from the day before. After bagging them, she looked around for clues. As her eyes scanned the room, she spotted a jewelry box on the dressing table, the initials "A.P." engraved on the lid.

_'Bingo,'_ she thought, and opened the lid. Digging through the items inside, she found a silver charm bracelet with one charm missing. Another charm reading "Angel" confirmed the identity of the owner.

"Griss? Found our missing bracelet!" she called to him as she took another snapshot. She heard him give his instructions back to her. Smiling, she bagged the bracelet and continued her search.

Moving on to the closet, she found a box full of yearbooks, diaries, and other bits of personal memorabilia underneath the hanging clothes. She pulled out each item, photographed it, and bagged them all separately. After she'd finished searching through the dressers, hampers, and the rest of the closet, she began prepping the bedroom to take prints when she heard him call her to the bathroom.

He was down on his hands and knees, and had been searching through the cabinet under the sink, but her view of his denim-clad backside was quickly pushed aside when she realized what he was holding.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, peeking over him into a first aid kit that was filled with rubber tubing and hypodermic needles.

"Even if we can't lift DNA from the one Nicky and Greg found, we can match the hypodermic to these," he said.

"So we got her?"

"Almost," he said, and smiled.

December 31 - 03:09

Grissom walked into the DNA lab and approached Greg, who was moving back and forth between the eyepieces of two microscopes, humming along with music that only he could hear in his headphones.

"Greg," Grissom said, but got no response. "Greg?" he said, a bit louder, but still getting no response from the lab tech. "GREG!" he yelled, and the young man jumped, nearly knocking over one of the scopes.

"Jesus," he said, taking the earphones off, and Grissom could hear loud 80's metal music blaring through them.

"It's a wonder you're not deaf already, son," he chided. "Nick said you found something for me."

Greg smiled brightly.

"Oh yeah, I did, a couple of things, actually. I think I deserve a promotion after this... or maybe some paid leave?" he asked brightly.

"Gimme the goods, then we'll talk about it," Grissom replied, anxious to see what the tech had found.

"All right. The hypodermic we fished outta the filters? Well, the DNA on it was destroyed, but I found viable DNA on the tip that was inside Hadler. It's still cooking. Should know in a couple hours, tops," he explained, smiling as he watched Grissom's eyebrows lift in an expression of interest.

"When will people learn to quit sharing needles?" he asked rhetorically. "Go on."

"And... the tag off Catherine's short 'n curly," he said, showing Grissom the report. "DNA matches the epithelials from the waistband of the black skirt." Greg waited, watching Grissom's expressions change across his face.

"Short and curly, Greg?" he asked, sounding every bit the paternal figure dressing down a misguided son. Greg shrugged and grinned, but didn't reply.

It was then that full awareness of the information his tech had given him sank in. "You mean Stacy Armstrong's pubic hair was in Laura Durden's teeth, not Norman Hadler's?"

"Give the man a prize," Greg replied smugly. "Now can we talk about that promotion?"

"I'll give you a week of administrative leave. You're a genius, Greg."

"I know," he replied. "You're welcome." With that, he put his headphones back on and resumed his head-bopping. Grissom shook his head and walked out of the lab, pulling his cell phone out and pushing Brass' number.

December 31 - 05:46

She sat in the corner of the break room, nibbling on a bag of carrots and drinking a Diet Coke. In front of her on the table were most of the books she'd taken from Stacy Armstrong's home, but she was scanning through the woman's diary at the moment. She didn't quite understand why she was so drawn to reading the diary, but something about the story she'd been told during the interview earlier had left her feeling like she knew the woman.

Stacy Armstrong had been keeping a steady journal record of her life since the age of 16, and Sara had just gotten to the start of college. She took a swig of soda and buried herself in the narrative.

November 21

Finally got D to agree to a date. Wore my new silk slacks with red halter top - hair was a mess but kept it under control. Still can't believe how incredible it was. We talked for hours over lattes. D is so insightful, always keeps the conversation interesting. Perfect body, wore jeans and a tank top. Perfect body. It's like our bodies are meant to be together. Came back to my apartment afterwards, had cocktails. We moved into the bedroom - let's not mix words here; the sex was incredible. Cuddled together for hours afterward, still talking. I think I'm falling in love.

_'I remember that feeling, Stacy,' _she thought. Her eyes skimmed through a few more pages.

February 14

D moved in today. Perfect V-Day. We exchanged chocolate and champagne - so romantic. Can't help feeling like D's distracted though. Maybe stress from the move-in. The days have swept past in a rush since our first date. Every day, I learn more about this incredible person in my life. I want this to be forever. I don't think I could ever be okay if another woman took my place. I need D so much it hurts inside. Just have to accept the time we have together, and try to make it last.

Sara kept reading well through the morning. The account of Stacy's relationship with "D" held so many parallels to her own situation with Grissom, she couldn't help but feel herself getting sucked in. The two had obviously shared a highly charged chemistry coupled with genuine compassion and respect for each other.

_'If only,'_ she thought. _'But it's useless to daydream on it. He barely registers me as female anymore.'_

Grissom, clearing his throat at the door, interrupted her pensive wanderings. She looked up to find him standing there, staring at her. When she smiled sheepishly, acknowledging the piles of books around her, he grinned back at her and shook his head. Coming over to her, he sat down across the table with a cup of coffee.

"Light reading?" he asked, eyes grazing over the journals.

"Just thought I'd do some research... never know what you might find in someone's journal."

He nodded at her, taking a sip of coffee. "I used to keep a journal," he offered.

"Filled with results of entomological experiments, I'm sure," she replied with a lilt of humor.

"No, those are in separate logs. It was high school. Lots of hormones and no outlet. Helped me work through a lot of things that were going on in my head," he said with a smile.

"And what heart-wrenching secrets did Gil Grissom put to paper in his teenage years?" she asked, then bit into a carrot, leaning closer to him. She couldn't resist grinning at him as he blushed.

"The usual stuff, I guess, stuff that happened of interest, my reactions to it. Poetry," he said, the last word very quietly.

She perked. "Oh?"

He hesitated a moment before replying. "There's a reason I became a scientist and not a writer, you know."

"I think it's sweet. Who would've known little Gil had a soft side once?" she said, grinning.

He stared at her, but didn't reply. _'I still have it, Sara,'_ he thought, but the words never made it to his lips before Nick and Warrick entered the room, breaking the moment forever.

"Any word on our guys catching Angela Payne?" Nick asked, hoping.

"Still MIA. But we can still keep processing evidence until they find her," Grissom replied, looking at his CSIs expectantly.

December 31 - 08:43

The shift had ended, and she was exhausted but couldn't find the sweet release of sleep. Annoyed, she rolled back out of bed and entered her bathroom to draw a hot bath. As she pulled the drain closed in the tub and turned on the hot water, her thoughts drifted back to Grissom and the hotel room. She couldn't fathom why he'd impacted her the way he did. As much as she relished his friendship and mentorship, it was frustrating to want more and know she wouldn't have it.

Stepping out of her pajama bottoms, she thought back over the years they'd known one another. They'd always shared a friendly, flirty banter together. For a while, she'd been confused by his seemingly mixed signals.

"Since when are you interested in beauty?" she'd asked, almost bitingly, feeling bitter about his oblivious comments to her.

"Since I met you," he'd replied quietly, and her heart had flipped inside her chest.

Sliding out of her pajama shirt, she stepped into the hot water and sat down in the tub. As the tension eased out of her lower back, she laid back against an inflatable bath pillow and closed her eyes. There were too many comparisons, too many coincidences, too much to think about. For a woman who made a living by thinking, it was a hassle to make her brain turn off, and that didn't make for a well-rested person.

Her mind flipped over the double homicide again, and the evidence they'd acquired. They had enough to get an arrest warrant on Angela Payne, but she still wasn't satisfied, knowing the case wasn't completely solved. Hadler had brought his girlfriend to Vegas, and they'd used the bed many times over. Payne and Armstrong had both been in that room, in that bed, with them. Payne had used the needle the same needle that killed Hadler. Payne had left behind her lesbian sorority charm. Armstrong's pubic hairs were in Durden's teeth, and there was only one explanation for that. Had Angela Payne killed two people in a jealous rage because her life partner was screwing them? Did escort service owners practice conventional, monogamous relationships? Did anyone?

Frustrated when answers weren't forthcoming, she forced herself to think about the only thing that could make her relax - daydreams of Gil Grissom touching her in ways that only fantasies would allow. Sara reached for the bar of soap on the edge of the tub and wet it, lathering it between her hands before rubbing it across her chest and closing her eyes, willing herself to feel his hands touching her instead.

**Chapter 8 - From the resolve, there came answers**

December 31 - 20:17

They sat in the interrogation room, Brass, Angela Payne, and Marshall Kline, her attorney. Grissom stood in the observation room with Delia Hadler, watching carefully.

"Look, Miss Payne. We've got a hypodermic needle used to kill a man that matches your private stash. We've got video footage of a woman's wrist holding a lit cigarette and wearing a charm bracelet matching the one we found in your home, right next to Norman Hadler's body falling into the canal. We've got your vaginal secretions on the sheets in Norman Hadler's hotel room, and we've got your sorority charm from the hotel room that I'm willing to bet used to fit right into this missing link on your bracelet," Brass said, looking at the suspect with a hardened face.

Her attorney spoke for her. "You still don't have anything that proves my client murdered this man."

Brass looked up at the man then, his eyes flashing. "Then maybe she wants to explain why we have all this evidence that places her way too close to a murder?"

Her attorney jumped up. "This is ridiculous, you don't have to answer..."

"It's ok Marshall, I'll tell him what he wants to know," she said, interrupting him. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Brass. "Look, I don't know anything about him being murdered. I was in his hotel room, and we fucked. He was a john. Stacy doesn't send me on jobs often, just when I need the cash. She told me to take good care of him, so I did. That's all I know," she said, staring at him coldly.

"What about the hypodermic?" Brass asked?

"What about it? It's common knowledge I shoot once in a while. I don't put my needles in anyone else."

"Was your girlfriend sleeping with Norman Hadler, Miss Payne?" Brass asked, attempting to goad her.

Angela laughed. "No, she wasn't."

"Then why was her DNA in those sheets too?"

The woman stopped for a moment, thinking. Sighing, she reached instinctively to her pocket for a pack of cigarettes, but stopped when she remembered she couldn't light up inside. "I dunno, guy. You'll have to ask her. I just know that she doesn't do men."

"But you do?" Brass asked.

"If they pay," she replied.

The conversation halted as Sara poked her head into the room. "Brass, can I see you for a minute?" she asked.

"Sidle, I'm in the middle of an interview," he replied sternly.

"It's pertinent," she said, and closed the door again.

"Excuse me," Brass said, standing and leaving the room.

Inside the observation room, Delia turned to Grissom. "What's going on now?" she asked. He looked back at her.

"I'm not sure, but I'll find out. Excuse me please, Mrs. Hadler," he said, and stepped outside to join his colleagues.

In the hallway, Sara was showing an unfolded piece of paper to Brass. "Sara, what've you got? Hadler's widow is in there watching us foul up an interview," he said to her, brusquely.

Looking up at him, she steeled herself. "Angela Payne isn't our suspect. Stacy Armstrong is. Look," she said, showing the letter to him. He took it and read the words quickly and irritably.

S,

I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you. It wasn't supposed to end this way. Please know, though, I do love you. I have to marry Norman; he's the father of my child. Always remember that though he has me, you'll always have my heart.

Love,

D

Grissom looked up at Sara, and staring at her face, waited for her to tell him what else she'd found with his eyebrow raised.

"On a hunch," she said, barely covering her smirk, "I looked through Stacy's college yearbooks. She did some pre-med classes her first year. Norman Hadler and Delia Stanton were both at UNLV with her." She paused for a moment, then continued, "I cracked her email password and found these emails to her website addy from a username of 'Lauralai69'. It looks like Stacy was having the affair with Laura, not Norman."

"We're on the wrong trail," Grissom said, glancing into the interview room where Angela Payne was chewing on her fingernails. It was then that he saw Greg round the corner, looking hurried.

"Grissom, I just finished running the swab from our girl in there with the DNA inside the needle. It doesn't match any of your other evidence. Sorry."

"We need the other female that lives in that house. We got the wrong lesbian. Damnit," Brass muttered.

"Jim, see if the angel in there wants to speculate on Armstrong's whereabouts. I need to have a conversation with the dear widow Hadler."

December 31 - 20:34

"I had no idea she was talking about my Stacy," Delia Hadler said, anxiously looking into the interview room where Brass was questioning Angela. "I wasn't even sure she was still living in Vegas. It's been a while since we talked. She was never able to get over what happened between us. Honestly, I'm not sure any of us were."

Grissom sighed and looked over at Sara, who was looking as frustrated as he felt. They glanced back and forth from one another, to Delia Hadler, to Angela Payne in the interview room. Finally, he grunted and shot a look directly at Sara.

"Too many variables. We need to go back to the evidence," he said, and turned on one heel to leave the observation room with Sara following behind. Outside, he nearly collided with Brass but kept marching, telling him "Keep Mrs. Hadler here for a few more hours, we may need her again," over his shoulder.

December 31 - 20:54

"Okay, if Stacy was having an affair with Laura, why would she kill them both?" Sara asked, trying to logic out the problem at hand.

"Because she never intended to stay with Laura. Sara, get on the network and pull up Armstrong's phone records for the past, hmm, say 6 months," he instructed her. "That's about the time she started getting these emails from Laura, right?"

She nodded and went to work. "So what am I looking for?"

"For starters, let's look for calls to Texas," he replied.

After a few moments of searching, the list of calls from the Armstrong residence filled the screen. Scrolling down, Sara pointed out a number. "Here's a 972 area code... and several other calls to the same number, looks like about once a week."

He nodded and glanced at the list of phone calls from the Hadler hotel room. "That's a match, Hadler's home number." They looked at each other expectantly.

"Delia Hadler is lying to us," Sara said, and Grissom's eyes narrowed as an unsatisfied smirk crept onto his face.

December 31 - 21:07

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Stacy and I haven't spoken in forever, I told you that already. She and Norman were obviously planning to meet," Delia Hadler said, looking defiant across the table.

"Mrs. Hadler, since when do you take your mistress to meet your girlfriend?" Sara asked coldly.

"Hell, I don't know. I don't even know him anymore. You people didn't tell me he brought his whore here with him. Who knows what they were capable of?"

Sara looked at Grissom and then at Brass, frustration clearly marking each of them. They hadn't been able to get any more information out of either woman in custody, and Stacy Armstrong was still at large. At least, they thought she was, but Delia called their attention to the window.

"My God, it's her," he said slowly, her voice full of awe.

Looking up, Grissom, Brass, and Sara silently confirmed that the police had arrested Armstrong. She was being escorted into the next interview room. Brass turned back to the uniformed officer beside the table.

"Keep an eye on her," he said, as all three stood to switch rooms.

"We know about your relationship with Delia Hadler, Stacy," Sara explained to the woman in custody.

"She's here, isn't she?" Stacy Armstrong said, her eyes darting around the windows. "She's here somewhere."

"That's really not what you need to be worrying about right now, Stacy. You've got a lot of explaining to do here," Sara said coldly.

"All I know is that I got arrested for having a broken license plate light, darlin', and suddenly you guys are telling me that you think I murdered Delia's husband."

"We've got your DNA in the sheets with them, your prints in the bathroom in a compromising position, and your pubic hair was in her teeth. Any explanation would be a start," Sara said, getting more challenging as each minute ticked by.

"Alright, yeah, I was seeing Laura. Doesn't mean I killed her. Or Norman," Stacy replied matter-of-factly.

Grissom looked through the pages of information about the evidence his team had collected from both murders, and came across Laura Durden's autopsy photos. Thinking for a moment, he bent down and looked at Stacy's legs.

"I notice you wear an anklet, Miss Armstrong," he said.

"Yeah, so?" she rebutted.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked.

"Whatever," she said, sounding bored as she propped her foot up on the table. "An admirer of jewelry, Mr. Grissom? Doesn't seem likely for you."

He compared the small pendant to the photos. The shapes were of similar size and shape. Clearing his throat, he sat back upright and looked her in the face. He laid the autopsy photograph on the table before her and said, "Miss Armstrong, I'm afraid I'm going to need to take that lovely charm into evidence. You see, when you broke Laura Durden's neck between your legs, you left more than just a pubic hair as evidence. If her epithelials are on that pendant, we've got you."

She removed her foot from the table and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. He pressed on.

"Angela Payne has already told us where to find your limo service. We'll pick through every single one of them, and we're going to find evidence that proves she was with you in that car. You're going to go to jail for a very long time."

The interview was interrupted by a woman's screams.

"STACY! I need to see her! Let me go!"

Grissom watched Armstrong's face lose the cool exterior as she recognized Delia's voice calling for her. To her credit, she didn't budge. Brass, however, stood to leave the room, his gaze looking angrier than Grissom had seen in a while.

"This whole time, you set up your girlfriend to take the fall for you. Why? For Delia?" Sara persisted.

The woman's eyes looked up to Sara's face. "Hatred is blind, as well as love," she quoted calmly.

Grissom recognized the quote. "Thomas Fuller," he said. Armstrong nodded.

"None of the others mattered," he said. "You just needed to clear the way so you could be reunited with her. In her grief over her husband's death, her hurt from learning of his affair, and with your girlfriend safely locked away, it was the perfect setting."

She stared at him coldly. "I'd like to speak with my attorney now," she said.

"That can be arranged," Grissom said, and gestured to Sara that it was time to leave.

"All he had to do was treat her right," Stacy said as she watched them leave. They both turned, but she'd fallen silent once more.

December 31 - 23:00

In the break room, Grissom had assembled his staff. They'd each pulled lots of overtime in the past two nights, and they'd managed to clear the case board. Being a holiday, he was feeling generous and was giving them all the rest of the evening off, as long as they were within on-call distance in case anything else came in.

"What I don't get is this," Warrick said. "Why keep with the obsession on an ex? Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds?"

"Million dollar insurance policy speaks pretty clearly. Laura Durden confessed her relationship with Hadler to Armstrong, not knowing there was any relation before her time. Armstrong calls up her old flame to divulge the big secret. The money talks from there," Grissom replied.

Sara shook her head. "No, she said it to me herself. 'One day she'll come back into my life. Doesn't mean I have to stop living or loving in the mean time.' She just believed in... true love. Delia Hadler didn't marry him for love. Stacy knew that and bided her time."

"When there is marriage without love, there will be love without marriage," Grissom said.

Sara smiled, finally realizing she knew one of his obscure quotes. "Benjamin Franklin."

He smirked at her, and then looked back at the rest of his staff. "Good work, everyone. Now, get out. I don't want to see any of you until next year." Glancing at his watch, he added, "That gives you one hour, by the way."

As the others began filing out, ready to go celebrate, he reached out and caught Sara's arm, stopping her. "Except you."

December 31 - 23:45

They were standing at the gondola loading area, and Sara looked around as the gondolier reached for her hand.

"What are we doing here again?" she asked, clearly not willing to let him do this properly.

"We're going to ride the canals of Venice, now get in," he remarked, nudging her from behind.

"Okay, and why exactly?" she replied, stepping down into the boat. She sat down on the wooden bench and looked back up at him.

He sighed and looked at her. "Because I want to." Taking his seat beside her, he motioned for the man behind them to begin steering the boat down the channel.

"You're really irritating, you know that?" she teased, and he couldn't help but feel giddy at her playfulness.

"You're really pretty, did you know that?" he replied softly and watched her eyes deepen and smolder in response. "Stacy Armstrong was right about that much. You need to hear it more often."

"You heard us?" she inquired, suddenly feeling slightly panicked of what he might have overheard.

"Let's just say I heard enough to know she had some insight, even if she was misguided in so many other ways."

He watched her then, as she began to contemplate what he was telling her. He expected her to smile suddenly and hug him, but had made another horrible miscalculation with her.

Her face fell sullen. She stared at him, and he read the sadness in her eyes like a case file. She was bare before him, and she was hurting.

"Sara, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this anymore Gil. I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing anymore," she said in soft, evenly paced words, and he could see her eyes beginning to glisten. She held her tears back, though, and he felt a catch in the back of his throat as he realized who had caused her this much pain - unfortunately, it was also when she realized the same thing.

"Damn you, Gil Grissom. You did this to me," she said, her voice low and without her usual matter-of-factness. "You still do this to me. It has to end now. And since you've made it abundantly clear that I don't get this choice, then make it. You tell me what's going on here. Why do you pull me closer with one hand, and push me away with the other?" She choked back an outright sob, but finally, one tiny, glistening tear fell in front of him.

He watched it trail down her cheek, and he felt his heart pop inside him, resulting in warmth spreading through his body. "Because I don't know how to be _with_ you, Sara. I know how to be your boss, and I know how to be your colleague, but I don't know how to be your... whatever it is we keep leaning toward." His piercing blue eyes begged at her to understand, to let him avoid saying it.

"You're scared," she said, the realization dawning on her in a sudden rush. Her pulse beat strong and rapid; she grabbed his hand. "I know 'scared', Griss. I get that one too. We don't have to be perfect together from the beginning."

"How could I accept anything less than perfect when it's with you? What kind of man would I be to make you suffer that way?"

"What kind of man are you to make me suffer this way now?"

"I understand that now. I didn't, until tonight. I had to live through the last three days with you to be able to tell you that I care. I care more than any man has a right to, when he's behaved as poorly as I have these past four years."

Silence hung in the air between them for a moment as they both absorbed the moment. Her hand was touching his arm, but he felt frozen by it. He had to know that she could forgive him before he reached for her in return.

"Are you trying to tell me that you're sorry?" she said, looking up at him from beneath dark eyelashes, her brown eyes inviting him closer while her mouth fell into a sultry smirk as she tested him. He couldn't help but feel a smirk crawling onto his mouth in return. As he leaned in, closing the distance between their faces, he reached around her waist by his right hand and pulled her closer to him. Her hands instinctively went over his shoulders, and he drew her lips to his in tender passion, feeling the tingling sensations flying along his lips upon contact. They both gave up small sighs of relief, as if every muscle in their bodies cried "At last!" in synchronized order. Their lips parted, tongues tentatively exploring and tasting one another, reminding him that they would be, of course, scientists until the end.

A roar from the mass of New Year's Eve celebrators on the strip broke the kiss.

"Happy New Year, Sara," he said warmly. He heard a soft popping behind him, followed by her feminine gasp of happy surprise. Quickly, he turned his head back and settled in next to her as the city began setting off a fireworks show that seemed meant just for them.

"Oh, Griss, it's so perfect. Thank you." She leaned against him again and pressed her forehead against his chest. "I couldn't be happier. Happy New Year."

THE END


End file.
